Order of the Last Soldier
by silverwell
Summary: After the tragic destruction of his home village, Sylver journeys to find his missing daughter. As the story unfolds, it follows Sylver, a pair of misfits a Kajiit and an Argonian , an ex-Moth Priest, and Sylver's own daughter.
1. Prologue Part 1

Yes... No?  
Wait, definitely Yes!  
=3

2/27  
Prologue Part 2 is on it's way!  
It'll be up by Monday (March 8, 2010).  
3/8  
It's up!  
Prologue Part 2 is up! =D

* * *

**Order of the Last Soldiers  
Prologue  
3E100**

As Sylver stepped up on the last hill, his foot kicked a small rock over itself. Pausing to take a good look at the surroundings, the familiar scent of cooking fires, grilled mutton, and freshly baked sweetrolls wafted to the weary soldier. The setting sun gleamed off the black diamond on his massive double-edged katana strapped to his back. Though the diamond was very dark, it was still see-through, and made the world look like night during the light of day.

Left hand on the hilt of his kukri at his belt, Sylver descended to the small village he called "home." When he neared the pen of four sheep, three pigs and a paint horse, a few children could be heard laughing. One of them was Sylver's daughter. Five years old, last month. It pained Sylver that he had missed all but one of her birthdays, though he was able to send a messenger with a gift each year.  
He missed his wife, Rashida, just as much when he was gone. Her sweetrolls are the best in all of Tamriel! Just thinking about them would make any person's mouth water.

Sylver managed to sneak in his house without being noticed, and Rashida hadn't immediately noticed his entrance. She was busy at the stove, checking on her infamous sweetrolls. As she began with preparing a few slices of mutton, Sylver quietly leaned his massive katana in the corner by the door. His leather armor was custom made so it didn't crackle while he moved and died the darkest color of black the tailor had.

Finally, Sylver casually stated in his deep, smooth voice, "I'm home."

Rashida immediately stopped, turned around, and almost dropping some of the mutton on the floor, flew to her husband and embraced him with a gleeful "Welcome home, Syl."

After being gone for several months, Sylver felt like the weight of the world was lifted from him as he embraced his wife. Fighting for months at a time for a dying order took as much of a toll on him as it did the next brethren of his order.

Several minutes went by before they finally let go of each other. Both had tears streaming down their cheeks as Rashida went to check on the sweetrolls as Sylver washed his hand to tend the mutton that she abandoned.

"How is Olena?" Sylver asked his wife as he seasoned the meat.

"The little rugrat is as active as ever," Rashida heartily replied. "She's already made great friends with the neighbor kids."  
Their village had only five houses built in an odd circle around a large pit made for a large fire. Usually only on festivals or holidays there is a bonfire lit in the center of town. When a baby was born, or a house was built for a new resident, the bonfire would be lit in the honor of the family.  
The large bonfire that was lit for the birth of Olena seemed like it was just yesterday.

"How is the Order?" It was Rashida's turn to ask.

After a short pause, Sylver replied, "Quite a few more abandoned their positions in the Order to join the Blades, or at least try to join. The Order has been around since long before the first Emperor, keeping peace and protecting the innocent. It makes me angry to think that a few foul rumors are making so many leave." Unable to concentrate on the meat before him, Sylver clenched his fists as he leaned on the counter.

Rashida hugged him from behind, trying to comfort him, "I love you, Syl. I always will." Sylver relaxed at his wife's voice, a weak smile tugging at the corners of his lips.

Before another word could be said, the neighbors screamed from their house across the circle. Sylver instinctively grabbed his katana, slowly opened the door, and peeked outside. Several horsemen slashed down their neighbors as others torched the thatched roof!  
Olena was still out there, and Sylver had to find her.

"Rashida," Sylver whispered quickly to his wife, "get yourself to safety! I will find Olena."

"I won't leave without either of you," Rashida firmly whispered back.

Sylver knew best not to argue with Rashida, she was one of the most stubborn people he ever knew, "Stay hidden, then."

Sylver knew he couldn't take on several horsemen at once, but would gladly take on an army if his family was in jeopardy. He slipped out the door, and ducked between the houses, eluding the eyes of the horsemen.  
As he slipped through the shadows of the setting sun, he managed to sneak a peek at the banners a few horsemen carried. They held up maroon flags, each with a gold lion embroidered with fine tailoring skills. The lions shined on the flags from the light of their torches, and the now three burning buildings!

The children weren't making any sounds, so he couldn't discern where they were. As Sylver passed beneath the boughs of a tree, a sharp pain shot through the back of his head, throwing him forward, and sending his katana spiraling towards a very large bush. Stars burst before his eyes as he fell unconscious.

As he regained himself, Sylver's head throbbed and pulsed with pain. He tried to move, but his muscles ached sorely as he slowly got to his knees. After a few minutes, his throbbing head calmed down as he began to wonder where he was.  
It was the middle of the night, both moons where high in the sky, giving off an eerie and tranquil light. Sylver took a moment to relax. He felt like it was a long time since he last relaxed.  
A small, dark glint caught his eye. Sylver studied the bush that it came from for a moment, and soon recalled that his sword had flown from his grasp.  
It all began to come back to Sylver. He recalled arriving home in the evening, and then there were screams. He recalled leaving his house to find his daughter. But he hadn't gotten very far. Something had hit him, knocking him unconscious, and causing him to throw his katana. Rolling onto his back, Sylver saw the tree tower above him. Some of the bark had been ripped off on the trunk as if it had been climbed. Footprints of plated feet and horseshoes trampled the soil beneath the bough.

Where is Rashida?

A rush of fear for his family overwhelmed Sylver. Did he return home just to see his village be slain mercilessly and the houses torched?

"Rashida! Olena!" Sylver cried as he struggled getting his muscles to lift him to his feet.  
Four of the houses were little more than burnt and charred rubble, including his own home. The fifth house was made of more stone and less wood than the others, so the house hadn't fully burned to the ground.

Are they ok?

A breeze rustled the limbs of the surrounding trees, making a faint and delicately soft noise. Sylver stood where the doorframe once was as he scanned for any sign of his family among the dark remains. The walls and the roof were made of wood, and only a few charred logs remained intact. The stove was partially warped from the heat of the flames that took the house. The tables and beds were also almost completely gone, the bed frames so warped that they were unrecognizable.  
Sylver was struck with grief when his eyes scanned over the charred remains of a body. He was so struck, he could not move for several minutes. Dropping to his knees, tears flowed down his cheeks and onto his hands he sat in front of his legs.

Rashida is dead…

Sylver looked up, eyes blurry from his tears. Wiping the tears away, he jumped to his feet, realizing the he was only seeing one body in his home, and that his daughter might still be alive. Turning away from the ashes of his home, the Redguard scanned the ruins around him for any sign of life.  
Though it was the dead of night and very dark, the moons glowed their silver and red bodies, casting a gentle, dull light on the world, illuminating enough for Sylver to see the ruined village.

Is Olena alive?

"Olena!" Sylver cried out into the night, wondering if his daughter was still alive, and praying that she hadn't suffered the same fate as his wife.

The scent of burned flesh caught up with him as Sylver's eyes crossed the fire pit. The bodies of his neighbors were gathered, still smoldering.  
Though he had seen a few small villages just like his being torched by groups of bandits, Sylver could never get over why such atrocities were committed.  
Approaching the fire pit, Sylver's vision blurred as he took it in. Though Sylver could not discern which torched figure belonged to who, all of the villagers were accounted for, all except Olena…

She is alive!

The Order had long helped keep bandits off the roads, and helped keep towns and villages safer since long before the first Septim brought peace to Cyrodiil. In fact, it's as old as the Mages Guild. There was a lot of bloodshed then, as many tyrant-kings fought to grasp power over the lands.  
Since the Emperor began his reign at the beginning of the Third Era, the Imperial City was built from the rubble of the chaos. Since there was little use for their army after the Emperor took his seat, the Blades were formed and the Imperials Troops began to guard their own cities and patrol their roads.  
For almost a hundred years, the Order had been little more than a guild that performed odd jobs and freelance work. Since they were no longer needed to patrol the roads or guard towns and villages, jobs were taken over by the Imperial Legion, and the Order slowly began to disband over the last few decades.

But where is Olena…?

Olena's body wasn't in the village. She was still alive, but where was she? Whether the horsemen took her, or she had run and hid, he didn't know, but Sylver needed to do something.  
Maybe he could get some of the Order together to find her. Though the Order suffered from a diminished roster, there had to be someone who would help.

Realizing that his katana was not at his back, Sylver soon recalled that it had flown from his grasp when he was knocked unconscious.

"There must have been a struggle that I happened to have 'cushioned' on its way down," Sylver concluded to himself.  
Facing the same direction that he was when he was knocked out, Sylver stepped forward to a large bush. The dirt beneath it was scrapped, as if something slid underneath it.  
Parting the thick leaves, Sylver stretched his arms through the bush's large leaves, feeling for his katana.  
Cold metal touched his fingertips when his arms were completely outstretched into the bush. Carefully brushing one of the sharp edges, Sylver moved the blade with the edge upright and pushing against the flat.  
The sharp end of the katana emerged from the bush to Sylver's left. Pulling the katana out of the bush, he blew the small remnants of dirt off the blade and attached it to the special hook at his back.

I must find Olena.

With nothing left of his home, Sylver resolved to find Olena, even if he had to travel all the corners of Tamriel to find her.  
After making a short prayer to Azura to protect Olena and help him in his journey, Sylver left his home for the last time.


	2. Prologue Part 2

**Order of the Last Soldier  
Prologue Part 2  
3E100**

"Brother Axel," a Moth Priest grabbed the sleeping Brother's shoulders and carefully shook him awake. With a start, Axel jerked awake, frowning in the direction he thought the Moth Priest stood. As Axel tossed his legs over the bed and sat up, the priest continued, "Your daughter is here to see you! She awaits outside."

"Alright, I'm on my way." The priest that shook him awake could be heard walking away, likely to continue reading an Elder Scroll. Not that it matters, the unfortunate priest's eyes would be completely blind soon.  
The last time Axel saw his daughter Marlene was three years ago. She was the second to last thing he saw before his eyesight was completely taken, second only to the Elder Scroll he finished.  
As he stood up, Axel was for the first time afraid of not seeing his only child grow up. His wife had died from complications when Marlene was born. Axel had been sent a messenger from the head of the Moth Priests to join their ranks, and his half-brother offered to take care of Marlene until his return.  
This is the second time he was able to meet Marlene, the first being shortly before his complete blindness.

Living in the Moth Temple for so long, Axel learned the halls and knew them better than the back of his own hand. He walked the halls like he knew exactly what was where, and never faltered when passing a Brother in the hall.  
Outside was a different matter, as a blind Moth Priest very rarely ventured outside – if they ever did. The chilled breeze ruffled his robes and teased his long brown hair. It was so long since Axel had last seen his reflection, and he found it hard to remember his own hair color. The black bandana tied neatly around his head covered his eyes and stayed a little of his hair.  
The fresh air was wonderful to Axel's senses. He could not remember the last time he had been outside, and under the gentle touch of the sun.

"Father?" A child's voice squeaked as Axel slowly stepped forward. He did not know where the next step was, and he found himself frightened of slipping or losing his footing. But the child's voice overrode his own fear, and he boldly stepped forward, albeit with some caution.

"Marlene," he smiled brightly. She clung to his Moth Priest robe as Axel knelt to the snow covered stone. He hugged his daughter, "Marlene, how are you, my child?"

As they let go, she replied, "Very good, father. Why do you have that over your eyes?"

The innocent question saddened Axel, but he could only give his daughter a smile. He didn't want to tell her he was blind, so he quickly came up with a reason, "My eyes are sensitive to the sun, but don't you worry about that. You and uncle must have had a long trip up here!"

"That we did, my brother," a familiar deep voice firmly stated. Snow crunched beneath the large half-Breton-half-Nord man as he approached.

One of the Moth Temple caretakers had lingered in case he was needed, and he cleared his throat and offered, "There are always some food and refreshments ready in one of the caretaker houses."

"Oh, good," Axel turned to the direction of the voice. "Will you show us there?"

"Of course," came a reply. "I would be happy to offer you an arm to guide you there, Brother Priest." The young priest offered an arm, gently brushing against Axel's arm. The blind Monk accepted the arm, and the younger guided them to the caretaker house.

Inside, a cozy fire warmed the inhabitants comfortably. Foodstuffs on ceramic dishware dotted the table as Axel and his visitors sat on the stools. The temple caretaker left them to continue his duties outside as Axel's brother poured them all fresh water from a pitcher.

"Thank you, Frank," Axel nodded in his brother's direction. "Help yourselves to the food."

Frank held his cup with one of his large hands and chuckled, "You were always proper and polite, brother. You've changed very little."

"Moth Priests have always been polite and proper," Axel grinned. "How are the others in Bruma? Well, I hope?"

"Aye, the twins are quite the rascals," Frank beamed and spoke heartily. "Three years next month and they're gettin' harder to keep up with! Marlene's wonderful around the house, helping the Mrs. with house work." Smiling to the child, he continued, "She's quite the young sprite!"  
Marlene giggled with her compliment.  
As their evening drew to a close, Axel couldn't help but have the reoccurring thoughts of never seeing his daughter grow up. They sent each other letters every great while, but with Axel's eyes of no more use, he could no longer read what his daughter or brother wrote. Whatever few tears he may have cried, Axel was thankful that his bandana soaked them up before either of his family noticed.  
He didn't want to have to explain to his daughter he was blind. He wanted to be able to see her smile again, to watch her grow up, to see the man she would one day marry, and hopefully if he lived long enough to see his daughter's own children be born.

Late that night, while the Moth Priests quietly snored in their beds, Axel lay awake. There were no private rooms, for when all the residents were blind, there was no need to hide in embarrassment.  
Even though they were blind, the priests were taught to wield a blade, a two-handed katana to be exact. They were taught how to listen to what was going on around them, and to use that sound to locate everything around them. For the last three years, Axel trained with a blindfold over his eyes, concentrating on the faint sounds around him.  
The priest who trained him was strict, pushing Axel to his limits and beyond. He must have been close to sixty years, living in the Moth Temple for almost fifty when the priest died a year ago.

"Keep your eyes closed and your mind open," he would often say. "The true reality is what you see with your mind's eye."  
Axel never understood his master's words. Slowly, however, Axel began to "see" in the same way as his trainer. He had to concentrate, focusing his mind on his surroundings and using subtle noises to locate various objects around him.  
Even then, the "vision" was blurred, and everything was not quite what it looked like. Faces looked all the same, rugs and tapestry had no designs, and very few things had their own uniqueness. It was all bleak, vague in color, and difficult to discern what was what.

Axel stood up from his bed, lowering his head as if he were looking to the floor. For a moment, Axel wanted to lie back down and sleep with his brothers of the Moth Temple, but the feeling was quickly overridden.  
Raising his head, the Priest stepped to the wall where his katana always laid on its wall mount. He knew exactly where it was, and didn't need any sort of vision to grab the hilt. The grip fit perfectly to Axel's hand, as it was forged just for him.  
There was no sheath to go with the blade. Instead, there was only a special leather strap that started at one hip, went around the opposite shoulder, and attached again at the same hip. A unique hook kept the blade on the back, releasing with a careful flick of the thumb when the wearer wished to wield his blade.

Sword at his back, Axel stepped out into the chilling night, Akaviri katana hooked to his back. A polished walking stick in one hand, he carefully descended the stone steps of the Moth Temple.  
Bruma had been the last town Axel remembered seeing before he went blind, and as he remembered, it was west. Knowing that the temple faced south, Axel turned to his right and began walking.


End file.
